(Minghui.org) I began to practice Falun Dafa (also known as Falun Gong) in 1995. During the past 20 years, I gradually learned how to cultivate diligently and understood the importance of Fa study.
Looking back at the hardships I’ve endured, I remember that I could always maintain unwavering faith in Master Li and Dafa and truly experience Master’s mighty grace and the power of Dafa.
I was shocked when I heard that a practitioner, a kindhearted doctor, was persecuted to death at the end of 2000. I decided to go to Beijing to appeal for the right to practice Falun Gong.
When we arrived in Beijing by train on January 23, 2001, we sensed an overwhelming fear that made people tremble. On the way to Tiananmen Square, we noticed police officers interrogating pedestrians. We were questioned three times. It was even stricter near the square. In fact, no one was allowed to enter Tiananmen Square.
We decided instead to go to Golden Water Bridge to unfurl our banner that said, “Falun Dafa Is Good!” But then the police caught us and pushed us into a vehicle.
A few other practitioners were later pushed into the vehicle with us. We opened up the banners, put them against the car windows, and shouted “Falun Dafa is good! Master Li is innocent! Dafa is innocent!” The police and pedestrians outside the car looked and whispered.
We were taken to the Zhanqian Police Station and locked in the compound along with other practitioners. The police took us inside one by one to record our names and addresses.
When I was taken in, I saw them hitting another female practitioner in the face, first on the left side and then on the right. I shouted, “Stop hitting her!” They stopped, looked me, and hit me in the chest so hard that I couldn’t stand up and fell down. An officer grabbed my head and hit it against the wall.
We practitioners were not afraid, did not cooperate, and did not give our names and addresses. In the backyard, a police officer hit practitioners with a whip. I saw a practitioner's face bleeding with half of his face purple, all while he kept shouting “Falun Dafa is good!”
After we were taken to the Changping Detention Center, I heard practitioners in the detention center say that there had been a self-immolation on Tiananmen Square that afternoon.
We all thought it was strange: Who self-immolated? Tiananmen Square was heavily guarded, and nobody had been allowed in. How did the self-immolators get in with a bottle of gasoline? Who could just walk in if it had not been pre-approved? We had been there in person and couldn't enter!
At the Changping Detention Center, a police officer claimed that if we gave him our address he would let us go home for the Chinese New Year.
The practitioner who was with me was confused and gave his address. As a result, the police from the Dalian Office in Beijing took the two of us to Jianxin Hotel, which was used to detain Dafa practitioners who came to Beijing to appeal.
Four guards who had already bought us train tickets back to Dalian at 10 p.m. watched us. I decided to escape because I had come to Beijing to stand up for Dafa and thought I should never cooperate with the persecution.
When I went to the bathroom to wash my hands, I saw a crack in the outside door. I slipped out, went downstairs to the gate, and took a taxi to the train station.
I wore very thin clothes but I didn’t feel cold. I bought a train ticket to Shenyang. I was very afraid and panicked and didn’t know how to get to the ticket check-in gate to Shenyang. I saw a policewoman on the second floor and asked her. She kindly told me to check the gate on the first floor and showed me where to go. I thanked her and went downstairs.
When I walked downstairs, a group of police officers stopped me. Instead of panicking, I told myself to calm down and said to Master, “Master, I leave everything to you.” They took me to their office, questioned me, and searched my pockets. I only had a little money and a ticket. They didn’t find out anything useful, although they thought I practiced Falun Gong.
Back outside their office, they were chatting when the policewoman upstairs saw me and shouted, “Why don’t you let her go? Her train will leave any minute.”
They let me go, and I ran to the gate and boarded the train, which left in less than a minute. I went home.
The practitioner who was with me could not escape, was brought back to the local forced labor camp, and was persecuted.
Now, remembering that time, I know that I was protected by Master.